December 2021

Friday, December 24, 2021 – כ׳ טֵבֵת תשפ״ב

Over the next several weeks, we will be exploring central concepts of Jewish life, Jewish Peoplehood, connection to Israel, and more. We will examine how we, as Reform Jews, approach and understand these concepts as presented in the Book of Exodus, which we begin to read this week. This week’s topic is Holiness.  Thank you for reading.

וַיֹּ֖אמֶר אַל־תִּקְרַ֣ב הֲלֹ֑ם שַׁל־נְעָלֶ֙יךָ֙ מֵעַ֣ל רַגְלֶ֔יךָ כִּ֣י הַמָּק֗וֹם אֲשֶׁ֤ר אַתָּה֙ עוֹמֵ֣ד עָלָ֔יו אַדְמַת־קֹ֖דֶשׁ הֽוּא׃ (שמות ג:ה)

“And He said, “Do not come closer. Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you stand is holy ground.” (Exodus 3:5)

The Holy Land. We say it all the time. In Hebrew, we refer to it as “אֶרֶץ הַקּוֹדֶשׁ – Eretz HaKodesh”, Terra Sancta in Latin, and it is generally accepted as an understood term. But, what exactly does it mean for a Land to be Holy?

Having fled from Egypt after a passionate killing of an Egyptian slave master, Moses has a transformational encounter. Seeing a desert plant appear to burn, but not be consumed, he is then instructed to remove his shoes, “for the place on which you stand is holy ground.” No, this is not the origins of the TSA’s policy. Rather, it is the first time we encounter the notion of holiness ascribed to land. What was it that made it Holy? Are we to understand that the physical space in proximity to where Moses was standing in relation to the burning bush possessed a different status than an area further away? Or was it simply that the manifestation of the Divine Presence required Moses – a mere mortal – to perform an obligatory act to ascribe a sense of holiness, reverence, or even awe in this place?

Today, the term “Holy Land” generally refers to the Land of Israel, often seen through its biblical borders. It is the place where both Temples stood, and in which, as of the 16th-century Jewish lore, there were 4 holy cities (Hebron, Jerusalem, Tiberias, and Tzfat). Holiness is a term that is often applied but rarely clarified as to its precise meaning.

Professor Eliezer Schweid expounds on the concept of holiness in the following way:

“The uniqueness of the Land of Israel is…’geo-theological’ and not merely climatic. This is the land which faces the entrance of the spiritual world, that sphere of existence that lies beyond the physical world known to us through our senses. This is the key to the land’s unique status with regard to prophecy and prayer, and also with regard to the commandments.”[1]

And the Mishnah establishes the concept clearly:

“There are ten degrees of holiness. The land of Israel is sanctified more than any other land. Wherein lays its holiness? From it are brought the omer, the first fruits, and the two loaves [offered on Shavuot], which may not be brought from any other land.
~ Masechet Kelim – Chapter 1, Mishnah 6

However, being sanctified is different from being holy. Sanctifying something means that it is designated for a sacred, ritual, or religious purpose – not that it somehow has inherent supernatural or magical qualities that make it different from something else.

Rabbi Prof. Louis Jacobs[2] raised critically important questions about the inherent nature of holiness:

• Is one place holier than another?
  It is hard to understand how the God whose glory fills the earth can be said to reside in one place more than another. Why is the building in which God is worshiped more God’s ‘house’ than any other spot-on earth?
• What meaning can be given to the idea that there are degrees of sanctity in which one place is more holy than another? Does this mean that there is a greater degree of in-dwelling in the holier place, and if it does how can it be said that God is located more definitely in one spot, less in another?

One way to understand this, as in the case of Moses and the bush, is to see the Divine as somehow actually located in the sacred spot – in a quasi-physical manner or especially manifested there.

However, I think that we as Reform Jews might choose to see holiness as determined more by experience and association. This view suggests that there is numinous power in the holy place, not due to any special in-dwelling of the Divine, but to the evocation of intense religious emotion [because] the place has been the scene of Divine revelation or of sustained and fervent worship. It is history that hallows the shrine.

Take, for instance, the Western Wall (HaKotel). We attribute a sense of holiness to it, not necessarily because of Divine manifestation, but rather due to its historical and nationalist significance, and consequently a collective agreement attributing to its sacred status.

Rav Joseph Soloveitchik (1903-1993), the spiritual founder of modern Orthodoxy, echoes this viewpoint, contradicting earlier Medieval teachings:

“For the Rishonim, the attribution of kedushah (holiness), ascribed to the Land of Israel is an objective metaphysical quality inherent in the Land.

With all my respect for the Rishonim, I must disagree with such an opinion.

I do not believe that it is halakhically cogent. Kedushah, under a halakhic aspect, is human-made; more accurately, it is a historical category. A soil is sanctified by historical deeds performed by a sacred people, never by any primordial superiority. The halakhic term ‘kedushat ha-aretz’, the sanctity of the land, denotes the consequence of a human act, either conquest (heroic deeds) or the mere presence of the people in the land (intimacy of humankind and nature). Kedushah is identical to humanity’s association with Mother Earth. Nothing should be attributed a priori to dead matter. Objective kedushah smacks of fetishism.”[3]

The Israeli scholar Yeshayahu Leibovitz (1903-1994) offers a straightforward and decisive treatment of the question:

“Exalting the land itself to the rank of holiness is idolatry par excellence.  [The Mishnah states]: ’There are ten degrees of holiness…’  We are not told that the land is holy but that it is sanctified [מקודשת].”

So why do we continue to refer to it as the Holy Land, and what should we as Reform Jews think about it?

One Reform approach is that of Rabbi Dick Hirsch (1926-2021):

“The State of Israel is the testing grounds for keeping the covenant between God and God’s people. How do Jews as a people create a just society when they are given responsibility? How do Jews use political power? How do Jews apply Jewish values in the everyday conditions of a Jewish society? How do Jews relate to issues of poverty, unemployment, health care and the aged? How does a Jewish government relate to a host of other issues that affect every society?”[4]

Where Hirsch sees the notion of kedushah play out based on the fulfillment of inter-personal relations within a societal context, British Reform Rabbi Professor Jonathan Magonet argues:

“It is God’s presence that ensures the holiness of the land, not any special nature of the land itself. Indeed, God cannot be present in the land, so to speak, when it is polluted by the actions of the nations that preceded Israel — or by those of Israel itself.”[5]

These approaches may be two different means to a similar end. It is important to note that our Reform thinkers are, at least theoretically, in agreement with the aforementioned Orthodox theologians and scholars: Holiness exists only when we, human beings, make it so.

Maybe the Kotel is only considered holy as a remnant of Herod’s Temple and as the central institution of both time and religious focus and had its holiness renewed in June of 1967, but should only be considered holy once again when values of tolerance, pluralism, and freedom of practice are on display as they would be when the Government of Israel implements a deal to make it such.

Moses took off his shoes in recognition that something powerful was happening in that space, maybe we should try doing the same? In today’s world, this may be exactly what is needed. To recognize the power of each person to sanctify, and then make holy our land, our people, and our connection between the two. We can think of it only as “A” Holy Land, and not “The Holy Land,” and that its holiness is in our hands.

Shabbat Shalom!

[1] Schweid, Eliezer (1985). The Land of Israel: National Home Or Land of Destiny. Translated by Deborah Greniman. Fairleigh Dickinson Univ. Press, p. 56.

[2] Rabbi Louis Jacobs. “Holy Places,” Conservative Judaism 37:3 1984

[3] Soloveitchik, Joseph, The Emergence of Ethical Man

[4] In Troy, Gil, The Zionist Ideas p. 263

[5] “Covenant and Holiness: Help or Hindrance in Seeking a Reform Theology of the State of Israel” in Journal of Reform Zionism, vol. 1, 1993

Friday December 17, 2021 – י״ג טֵבֵת תשפ״ב

 וַיִּשְׁלַח יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת־יְמִינוֹ וַיָּשֶׁת עַל־רֹאשׁ אֶפְרַיִם וְהוּא הַצָּעִיר וְאֶת־שְׂמֹאלוֹ עַל־רֹאשׁ מְנַשֶּׁה שִׂכֵּל אֶת־יָדָיו כִּי מְנַשֶּׁה הַבְּכוֹר׃

“But Israel stretched out his right hand and laid it on Ephraim’s head, though he was the younger, and his left hand on Manasseh’s head—thus crossing his hands—although Manasseh was the first-born.” (Genesis 48:15)

Joseph was not prepared for this moment. Having now been reunited with his father and been together for the last 17 years of Jacob’s life, Joseph had the unique opportunity to bring his sons to his father for a blessing (may we all be so lucky!).  In a dramatic twist of fate, defying all traditional expectations, Jacob pulls a fast one and crosses his hands – offering Ephraim, the younger brother, the blessing with his right hand. Joseph tried to protest the crossover but to no avail.

It may be easy to miss the significance here and easy to ask: “So what?!?!”

However, our tradition attributes great significance and power to the “right” hand (pun intended).

In the enigmatic poem, Ana B’Koach, recited almost precisely as Shabbat begins, Rabbi Nehunya ben HaKanah, (who lived in the early centuries of the Common Era) waxed poetically about the right hand in supplication to God.

“We beg you! With the strength of Your right hand’s greatness, untie our bundled sins. Accept the prayer of Your nation; strengthen and purify us, O Awesome One.”

Note as well the famous line from Psalm 137:

אִם־אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ יְרוּשָׁלָ͏ִם תִּשְׁכַּח יְמִינִי׃

“If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right-hand wither…”  (Psalm 137:5)

The Psalmist compares the loss of the Holy City of Jerusalem to losing the powerful cunning of our right hand. In this context, one might imagine Joseph’s dismay as he followed the unconventional move of his father’s right hand.

The blurring of right vs. left in our biblical story twisted the plot and added both drama and a forward trajectory for our ancestors. But what about today?

This week marked the six-month anniversary of the Bennett-Lapid government, whose coalition exemplifies the true blurring of “Right” and “Left” in Israeli politics.

Since the signing of the Oslo accords in the 1990s and the outbreak of the Second Intifada in September 2000, the left-right divide has continued to become fuzzier. The signing of a peace treaty with the Palestinians in the 90s resulted in shifting the political goalposts considerably to the left. Just prior to the signing, the PLO was an outlawed organization in Israel, and talk of a Palestinian state was taboo among large sectors of the Israeli electorate.

At the same time, those goalposts shifted back with the violence brought on in the early 2000s after Oslo’s collapse. “Left-winger” (שמאלני – Smolani – or the popularized colloquial and derogatory “סמולנים” which echoes the English word “small”) has become a slang epithet hurled at those who dare criticize the actions of the government and Defense Ministry / IDF, and who raise moral issues. Those activists who work actively for Palestinian and minority rights are not to be spoken about. The meaning of “Right-wing” has also changed over time.

The mainstream right-of-center demographic has now moved further to the right, embracing even the extremist elements of Israeli society. The tolerance and approbation of Jewish communities over the Green line (i.e. Settlements) has moved considerably more into the Israeli mainstream and many still are holding the anachronistic (in my opinion) view that there should not be a Palestinian State. Astoundingly, the notion of self-preservation, defense, and security are regarded by some as values only touted by the Right..

This week, two important articles appeared in the Haaretz newspaper, generally known to be a left-of-center publication, challenging those who hold both “Right” and “Left” positions.

The first is a haunting and disturbing expose by historian Adam Raz titled “Classified Docs Reveal Massacres of Palestinians in ’48 – and What Israeli Leaders Knew.” The piece shares vivid and deeply troubling accounts of IDF soldiers carrying out brutal murders of women, children, and the elderly during the 1948 war in more than 25 villages. And it claims that the Israeli cabinet knew of these massacres but chose not to disclose them. Haaretz’s lead editorial this week stated:

“A 73-year-old state has no need to run away from its past or cover it in the false blanket of “purity of arms” and “the most moral army in the world.” It is time to acknowledge the truth, and first to publish the report by the first attorney general, Yaakov-Shimshon Shapira, on the massacres of the dark autumn of 1948; to restore the redacted text to the minutes of the cabinet meeting in which Shapira presented his findings and to hold a penetrating public discussion of their implications today.”

Reckoning with closeted skeletons and holding Israel accountable for its behavior is certainly important and, one might argue, is also a Jewish value.

As a rebuttal to that piece, a second article titled “Jews Were Massacred in 1948 Too, So Why Dwell Only on the Nakba?” ran on Wednesday. This article emphasized that in the total war of existence that began to rage in Palestine following the adoption of the United Nations’ partition resolution of November 1947, massacre was the certain fate of every Jewish settlement that fell to the Arabs: the killing of fighters and civilians alike, mutilation of their bodies, looting of property, and destruction of the houses and other buildings.

The article’s author, Uri Misgav, well-associated with the Israeli Left, states:

“Today there is apparently only the Nakba: It consists of the killing and expulsion of Arabs, Palestinian villages that were destroyed, and Palestinian refugees. This historiographic distortion, with its absurd and immoral lack of symmetry, is the apple of the eye among certain circles in Israel, Arabs, and Jews alike.

Essentially, Misgav’s call-out here is to say that Arabs massacring Jews is not newsworthy or nuanced. It is ‘dog bites man.’ Jews massacring Arabs (and covering it up) is more of a “man bites dog.” His piece is of critical importance because it calls out those who engage in “exaggeration, falsehoods and self-undermining and flagellation, and wallowing in feelings of guilt.” He advocates not cherry-picking cases and quotations. Rather, we have to be thorough and factual and give context for the sake of the truth of the historical record and to avoid pandering to one viewpoint over another.

But here’s the thing, “Right” and “Left” are useful words if you need to tell a driver which way to turn. Within the political realm, the binary descriptors are past their expiration date and should be deep-sixed.

They lack nuance given that “the right” can include Alexander Hamilton, Ayn Rand, Steve Bannon, PM Naftali Bennett, Avigdor Lieberman, and John Locke.

And “the left” can include Joseph Stalin, U.S. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Woody Guthrie, Karl Marx, PM Naftali Bennett, Avigdor Lieberman, and John Locke.

Polarized situational politics can be amplified by unsophisticated click-and-share social media posts, which reward and encourage extreme and simplified attitudes. Lost in the noise are the vanquished centrists and the sensible voices of moderates with the ability to balance between poles. Too often, activists (on all sides) whittle down complex issues to a superficial binary choice, forcing one to be either ‘for’ or ‘against.’ At certain times there are clearly delineated lines defining right vs. wrong, good vs. bad, etc… I often mourn the contemporary perceived death of absolutism. But, sometimes there are more than fifty shades of grey.

Sometimes, the right hand and the left hand can crossover and meet in the middle. That move can be shocking, as it was to Joseph and to those who maintain certain expectations of the right/left divide. As we bring the book of Genesis to a close, let us all try and emulate Yaakov’s penultimate blessings to his grandchildren, to crossover our hands and blur the lines between Right and Left. As parents now say in offering a blessing to their children (sons in this example) around the Shabbat dinner table: “To be like Efraim and Menashe” is the legacy we now try to teach – and we can add Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel as well. Ephraim and Menashe were born and raised in Egypt, in a non-Jewish society, a place where, we are told to assume, the people were not of high character. Our sages teach that they remained faithful to the morals and ideals that were espoused by their grandfather Jacob as they were transmitted through their father Joseph. To maintain a high level of spirituality and moral character amidst a society devoid of morality and ethics is the real test. Rather than looking to simplistic binaries of “Right” or “Left” may we all have the strength to be able to withstand the pressures of society, find balance and be a blessing.

Shabbat Shalom.

Friday December 10, 2021 – ו׳ טֵבֵת תשפ״ב – Parashat Vayigash

By Josh Weinberg

At a public high school in a major North American city, a student hung a flyer on a student-led social justice board in the hallway. “Free Palestine” it read and boasted a picture of a Palestinian flag. No context, no explanation, no commentary, no elucidation as from whom “Palestine” should be “freed.” Subsequently, another student scribbled the words “from Hamas,” which was almost immediately painted over. A different student ripped down the flyer claiming it was antisemitic and hate speech. The principal exacerbated the incident, and the student now suffers from social media attacks for being racist, Islamophobic, and anti-Arab.

In another case, a teenager proud of his challah baking experiment posted a picture of his freshly baked golden braids on his Instagram account and received a barrage of “Free Palestine” comments (!) forcing him to remove the post. What does challah have to do with Palestine?  Good question.

The student union at the University of Toronto recently proposed a new policy, tabled on November 24, whereby the union will no longer engage with events, services, or groups — including kosher food vendors — that “further normalize Israel apartheid.”

This is happening all over the Diaspora. During Operation “Shomer Homot” – the recent war between Hamas and Israel last May, we witnessed a slightly different expression of this phenomenon. People, especially teens, who had never been active or shown interest in this issue, jumped on the bandwagon-of-justice and the meme-post of “Free Palestine”– again, bereft of context, nuance, sophistication, and background.

Today, “Free Palestine” is the call of many who do justice work and champion anti-racism, the cause-du-jour of the anarchist left, resulting in some quarters as superficial popular progressivism.

What does it mean, and how should we respond?

When the claim is to “Free Palestine” we must ask from what?  Freedom from an oppressive and corrupt regime? Freedom from Hamas that chooses to use every resource to build tunnels, rockets and missiles and maintain the squalor of its people? Freedom from the international community that champions the Palestinian cause but does little for the Palestinian people?

Or, freedom from the Occupation? In which case we must ask, does this refer to the 1967 occupation, settler dependence on State infrastructure support in the West Bank and East Jerusalem, or the establishment of Israel itself in 1948?

Do advocates for a free Palestine mean ‘Free of Jews’ echoing the German ‘Judenrein’ of the Third Reich?

The students claim that ‘Free Palestine’ is not hate speech nor a terrorist slogan. Rather, it’s a call to liberate Palestine from the throes of colonialist oppression – Israel.

We often hear the protest chant that Palestine should be “free from the river to the Sea” suggesting that a Palestinian State ought to replace the Jewish State of Israel.

 Professor Maha Nassar (Associate Professor at the University of Arizona) claims that we, Jews misunderstand the meaning of “Free Palestine”:

“The call for a free Palestine ‘from the river to the sea, gained traction in the 1960s and was part of a larger call to see a secular democratic state established in all of historic Palestine. Palestinians hoped their state would be free from oppression of all sorts, from Israeli as well as from Arab regimes.

To be sure, a lot of Palestinians thought that in a single democratic state, many Jewish Israelis would voluntarily leave, like the French settlers in Algeria did when that country gained its independence from the French. Their belief stemmed from the anti-colonial context in which the Palestinian liberation movement arose.”

Prof. Nahar offers a problematic view – to say the least – comparing Israel to a true colonialist entity such as France in Algeria. Rather than making the comparison to the British Mandate in Palestine when both Jews and Palestinians were colonized she completely skews the picture.

Let me be clear, I also want a free Palestine. I want one day to see an independent Palestine living peacefully and securely side-by-side with a Jewish, democratic, and secure Israel. I believe strongly in the right of self-determination for the Palestinian people. They deserve a representative government and working systems of health care, welfare, education, and the opportunity to make a living.

I support Palestinian human rights and their right to self-determination just like I see the State of Israel as the embodiment of the national Jewish liberation movement, and as the only democracy in the Middle East and the social justice movement of the Jewish people.

There is no question that Israel has yet to fulfill its aspirational vision, but when we protest the policies of the United States, we never call for the dismantling of the project that is the United States. However, many who advocate for Palestinian rights regularly call to question Israel’s very existence. When we hear “From the River to the Sea, Palestine will be Free” we understand that to mean that there is no place for a Jewish State, even if those saying it claim to not see it that way.

Let’s state the obvious:

First, it isn’t a secret that a “single democratic state” means the end of Israel and the Zionist enterprise. Yes, many Jews would leave, and many more might be slaughtered.

Second, Israel isn’t a colonialist entity, and the accusation of such is a gross misconception that undermines the right of the Jewish people to self-determination.

Zionism bears none of the defining features of European settler-colonialism. All settler colonialist movements of the modern period consisted of imperial conquests of foreign lands. For instance, the British and the Spanish, who ruled their own homeland, conquered, and settled the land of other peoples, mostly in South and Central America, Africa, and Asia – lands with which they had no prior relationship or connection.

In contrast, we Jews lost our homeland and lived in exile/Diaspora. We then returned to our homeland, purchased land from local and absentee Arab landlords, and built a country. While that is our narrative, we can and should acknowledge that Palestinians maintain a different foudnational narrative, one of catastrophe and displacement, known in Arabic as “Nakba”.

What is needed, in order to achieve freedom and justice for Palestine and Israel, is a serious, and more invested effort of dialogue and, of course, a commitment to end the conflict, not just for the other to disappear. Not surprisingly, we learn such a lesson from this week’s Parasha.

At the opening of Parashat Vayigash, Jacob’s fourth son Yehuda offers a long speech to Yosef. He doesn’t actually discuss the stolen goblet (continuing last week’s story), but rather chooses to tell the story of his family. He ends by changing his appeal – offering himself as a slave in exchange for his younger brother Binyamin, who should go free with the other brothers (Bereishit 44:33).

His words were so powerful that Joseph could no longer contain himself. In a dramatic scene, Joseph clears everyone out of the room, weeps uncontrollably, and discloses his identity: “I am Joseph, your brother.”

What was so powerful about what Yehuda said that caused Joseph to undergo such an emotional reaction and lead himself to reconcile with his brothers?

Some commentators suggest that Yehuda wasn’t actually taking responsibility for the lifted goblet, but rather for the formative act of selling Joseph into slavery (which he did only to spare his life). Yehuda was taking responsibility and holding himself accountable for past actions.

We Jews, we Israel, also need to do that, and haven’t done it enough. Let’s tell our story (which may require us having to learn our story).

Like, Yehuda, we also need to confess our mistakes, and when we inflict pain and suffering on others. We cannot go back, as the famous line goes: “He whose candle was snuffed out and was buried in the dust – bitter crying won’t wake him up and won’t bring him back…” (Shir L’Shalom, Yankele Rotblit, 1969)

We cannot undo the past, but we can apologize, reconcile, and work to make things better and more just. But we cannot do this alone. Is it fair to insist that while we uncover the warts of Israel’s past and current behavior that the Palestinians do the same? Is it fair to champion the Nationalist Movement of the Palestinians but to deny Jewish peoplehood and nationalism? At the end of the day, we can only control our own words and behavior.

When we see “Free Palestine” (online or in person), we must ask if it is an invitation to a conversation, or an attempt at delegitimization that inhibits any possibility of genuine dialogue?

The story of Joseph and his brothers teaches us that even in difficult situations discourse is possible and the only way towards rapprochement. In order to succeed, for this purpose each side must take responsibility for its actions and make a serious attempt to understand the other.

Let’s tell our story, our full story, hold ourselves accountable when we make mistakes, correct those mistakes, and believe that our narrative will touch people’s hearts.

Shabbat Shalom,

Josh

Friday December 3, 2021 – כ״ט כִּסְלֵו תשפ״ב

וַיַּ֜עַן וַיֹּ֤אמֶר אֵלַי֙ לֵאמֹ֔ר זֶ֚ה דְּבַר־יְהֹוָ֔ה אֶל־זְרֻבָּבֶ֖ל לֵאמֹ֑ר לֹ֤א בְחַ֙יִל֙ וְלֹ֣א בְכֹ֔חַ כִּ֣י אִם־בְּרוּחִ֔י אָמַ֖ר יְהֹוָ֥ה צְבָאֽוֹת׃ (זכריה ד:ו)

Then he explained to me as follows: “This is the word of Adonai to Zerubbabel: Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit—said Adonai of Armies. (Zecharia 4:6)

What is the miracle of Hanukkah?

In a word:  Power.

For the rabbis of the Talmud,  (Shabbat 21b) the miracle was enough oil to power the menorah of the Temple in Jerusalem well beyond its projected length.

The rabbis who conjured up this miracle of the oil, attempted to downplay, or even dismiss the other major miracle of power, namely, the victory of the Hasmoneans (Maccabees) over the Greek army – the meager against the mighty.  Writing several centuries after the events, the rabbis attempted to lessen the legacy of the Hasmoneans. They felt that the Hasmonean dynasty while having won the war and rededicated the Temple as the central religious and political institution, were extremists drunk with power. The Hasmoneans slaughtered their own people, forced the conversion of thousands of non-Jews due to their annexationist policies, and cozied up to a world superpower which eventually led to our destruction. The rabbis knew that championing the legacy of capricious, egocentric, and whimsical emperors was likely not a good idea.

Their conclusion was that Jewish survival is not a matter of military might or political prudence, important as they both are, but an inner resolve that springs from faith and utter dependence on the power of the Almighty.

That fundamental lesson of Jewish history was driven home with the rabbis’ choice to read the words of the prophet Zechariah as the Haftarah on the Shabbat of Hanukkah:

“This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel (who was a leader of a small group of exiles who returned in 537 B.C.E. from Babylon to start what would become the Second Jewish Commonwealth): Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit — said the Lord of Hosts (Zech. 4:6).”

And what lessons do we take from this today?

On the one hand, the rabbis were right. It is neither good nor right to fuel the flames of extremism. It is neither good nor right actively to court Jewish zealots who advocate policies of transferring Israel’s non-Jews and millions of Palestinians out of the Greater Land of Israel. We narrowly avoided a political disaster when former PM Netanyahu brought the Kahanist politicians to the fold. And just when we thought they were safely contained in the narrow but stable Opposition, we see the President of Israel, Yitzhak “Bougie” Herzog, go directly to the den of extremist Settler-ism to light Hanukkah’s first night’s candle – in the Cave of the Machpela in Hevron. Emphasizing its undeniable connection to the Jewish people, he made a small gesture to the Abrahamic faith traditions who feel connected to this site.  But let us not be mistaken. This was a calculated and deliberate decision. As Haaretz journalist Anshel Pfeffer wrote:

“The visit to Hebron is not an afterthought or a symbolic gesture of “unity.” This was the very first Hanukkah-lighting of Herzog’s presidency, and his choice of venue signals how he intends to build his political brand throughout his term and beyond.”

Herzog should learn from the Rabbis’ lesson. Might and Power unchecked eventually spiraled out of control and cost us our sovereignty. The infighting and iron-fisted rulers who annexed non-Jewish populations, and forcibly converted them, are seen as a stain on our people’s historical narrative. Their conduct ought not to be repeated. The coddling of this extremist element in society – not Efrat, Maale Adumim which are seen as more within the consensus, but Hevron – and lighting candles in the exact spot where a Jewish extremist Baruch Goldstein massacred 29 Palestinians during prayer in 1994 will be seen as condoning the extremists and bringing them into the mainstream, awarding undue power and prestige to this fringe element.

Will emPOWERing extremists reach a tipping point after which vast segments of the Jewish People will cease to see the Jewish state as the home of all Jews? Or can we remind those in power to use their power to prevent a calamitous outcome?

Here, relying on God for miracles might not be a wise strategy.

The rabbis were only partially right.

Yes, unbridled power is dangerous. However, let us not ignore the fact that powerlessness is also dangerous. Imagine what would have happened had Maccabees lost? Where would we be now?  Let’s also imagine that Israel had not been able to overcome the five neighboring Arab countries in 1948, or had not pre-emptively struck in 1967, etc, etc, etc…

We might not have a State of Israel today.

The Zionist version of the Hanukkah story is also inspired by a rabbinic tradition whereby we are told not to rely on miracles – לָא סָמְכִינַן אַנִּיסָּא (Kiddushin 39b).

According to rabbinic tradition, it was not by military might, nor by military power, but by the steadfast spirit of holiness visited upon them by God that the Maccabees were able to succeed.

But we don’t always have the luxury to rely on miracles. What’s more, our tradition is multi-vocal – no one Biblical or Talmudic verse is the singular expression of Divine Will.

Zechariah’s words were used by the rabbis of the Talmud to reimagine our theological existence. Zechariah’s concerns and prophecies in this connection are not confined to the physical resumption of the Temple’s reconstruction (writing in in 5th-century B.C.E. Jerusalem following the earlier destruction by the Babylonians). They address adherence to the Divine spiritual, ethical, and moral teachings. These alone will ultimately lead to a rebuilt, rededicated, and functioning Temple. It will be the center of a restored Jewish sovereign state and — in messianic terms — of the all-encompassing “kingdom of God” on earth. That Kingdom will embrace all individual nations and peoples under an inclusive umbrella of monotheism and righteousness.

It is the ethical and moral teachings that inform us how to harness and deploy our might and power.  Today very few of us look for miracles. We don’t think that resources, budgets, or even strength will come as a result of our faith. While we celebrate the miracles of those days, today’s lesson is the following:

“Rabbi Yannai said: A person should never stand in a place of danger saying that God will perform a miracle for them” (Shabbat 32a)

In short, don’t be in that situation. Yes, amass power and strength so that you don’t need to use it, and save some extra oil for that moment when you might need it. But ultimately the more apt lesson is: יְהֹוָה עֹז לְעַמּוֹ יִתֵּן יְהֹוָה  יְבָרֵךְ אֶת־עַמּוֹ בַשָּׁלוֹם׃ (Psalm 29:11)

That God gives our people Power, and only once we have power, then will God bless our people with peace.

חג שמח, שבת שלום, חודש טוב!

Josh